


Worry

by ASimpleArchivist



Series: MTMTE Love [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: More than Meets the Eye
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, DFAB reader, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff and Angst, Helloooo here comes your daily dose of angst, Hormones, Insecurity, Light Angst, Mentions of Menstrual Cycles, Pre-Menstrual Hormones, Ratchet's tired and wants to strangle him, Reader-Insert, Rodimus loves you and wants you to be happy, feels abound, fem!reader - Freeform, he's also the biggest worrywart when it comes to those he loves, might add tags later, no matter what you're going through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14803976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASimpleArchivist/pseuds/ASimpleArchivist
Summary: Ratchet retires to his habsuite early one evening, only to be rudely interrupted by a distraught Rodimus. Apparently, he's worried about you.





	Worry

**Author's Note:**

> Poor docbot. The one time he actually tried to sleep he doesn’t get the chance.  
> Apparently this has been sitting in my files for quite a while with less than ten words lacking to be finished, and I honestly don’t remember if I had any more planned or not but I’m calling it done bc I haven’t posted anything in a while so here! Have it! *gestures weakly*  
> This is very self-indulgent because I feel like shit due to hormones and it sucks. I also wanted to write for Rodimus bc he’s my precious son boi and he deserves all the love he can get. (Please ignore that this is the second oneshot in a row I’ve done relating to period stuff. This kind of leans more towards general depression/not feeling good/insecurity stuff anyway so you can kind of ignore that part if you want to.) Have fun with the angst/comfort, kiddos!

Ratchet was trying to sleep. He really was. Drift had managed to haggle him into going to berth early, since he’d taken several shifts back-to-back, and Ratchet had finally given in when Drift had threatened to tell First Aid about his negligence to his own health. (The younger medic was notorious for lectures, just like Ratchet was, and the last thing he wanted was to agitate him and risk him locking Ratchet out of the medibay.)

Honestly. The speedster had it out for him.

He’d done well. He’d grabbed a cube at Swerve’s, had a bit of leisure time letting the minibot ramble and only having to comment when asked a direct question, then had retired for the night to his habsuite. It’d actually been a pleasant evening - no one had showed up in the medibay with foolhardy injuries that could’ve easily been prevented, none of the command staff had put the _Lost Light_ and her crew into mortal peril, and, most notably, their (co)captain hadn’t disturbed the peace. All in all, Ratchet was rather content with how the day had turned out. He’d even indulged in a hot rinse in the washrack before settling down on his recharge slab.

He’d scarcely had the chance to offline his optics before a harsh banging sounded on the other side of his habsuite door - nevermind the fact that there was a _fragging button for requesting entry-!_

“Ratchet? Ratchet! You in there? I need help!”

Primus frag him to the pit. Just when he’d thought he’d end the day on a good note of going to bed early.

Ratchet sat up and threw his legs over the side of his berth with a growl, stalking to the door and jabbing the button to open it so hard the protective cover cracked. _Great. Another thing to fix._ “Rodimus, what the _frag_ do you wan-”

“Something’s wrong with her.”

Ratchet stopped, his optics finally registering the look on the younger mech’s face. He was relaxed, but in a way that was obviously forced - Rodimus’ optics were bright with worry and fear, mouth drawn tight and faceplating oddly pale in the corridor’s false light. His spoiler drooped low on his spinal strut, twitching nervously.

Ratchet ex-vented and stepped to the side, gesturing the red and gold mech inside. Rodimus took the invitation without hesitation.

“There’s something wrong,” he repeated, rubbing at his faceplate and beginning to pace the length of Ratchet’s habsuite anxiously. Ratchet ex-vented softly to himself and sat on the edge of his berth, preparing himself for the onslaught that was sure to come. “She hasn’t talked to me all day. She only came out of her habsuite once, and that was to get one meal. _One_ , Ratchet. I checked. Well. I made Magnus check. But _still_.” He ex-vented agitatedly, clenching his servos repeatedly. “And she didn’t speak to anyone. She avoided _everyone_. She didn’t even say hi to Swerve.” He paused, froze in his tracks, then groaned. “ _She didn’t even say hi to Swerve!_ ”

“Rodimus, calm down,” Ratchet started, but the (co)captain of the Lost Light was already back on his tirade.

“And - and get this! She didn’t even send Megatron a notification that she was taking a day! Or me! Or _Magnus!_ She just - she didn’t tell anyone why...I don’t know what I should do, Ratchet. I don’t know what’s wrong and...” His spoiler dropped even lower and he seemed to sink into himself. “I don’t know.”

A faint sense of worry bloomed low in Ratchet’s primary tank, despite how he wanted to dismiss Rodimus’ usual and subsequently supposed exaggeration as aimless and unfounded worry. The younger mech tended to take things to a much higher level than what they actually were, no matter what the subject - but something about his body language and his voice and the distress radiating off of him through his EM field (unchecked and unrestrained, probably due to his heightened emotional state - mechs as open as Rodimus was with their fields lost control of them in times such as this) struck Ratchet as entirely authentic.

He was really, really worried about you, and it showed.

“Have you tried talking to her?” the medic asked.

“I sent her a message on her comm, but she never responded,” he murmured, finally giving up and sinking down beside Ratchet. The medic scooted over to give him room.

“Has she been acting off lately?” was his next question. “Moody? Absent?”

Rodimus perked up a bit at that. “Yeah, actually. She’s been kind of quiet and less...I don’t know, happy?”

“Hm.” Ratchet relaxed a bit, recognizing what the problem was. “Has she been complaining of not feeling on par?”

“Yeah.” Rodimus was looking at him with simultaneous curiosity and apprehension. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

Ratchet deferred to the chart he kept on your body’s basic information. _The time frame’s about right…_ “She’s experiencing pre-menstrual hormonal shifts, Rodimus.”

He received a rather blank stare in return.

“Dear Primus,” the medic muttered through gritted denta, “you’re in a relationship with a female human and you didn’t bother to study up on her basic biological processes?”

“My bad…?” Rodimus tried.

Ratchet ex-vented and resigned himself to his fate. “I’ll explain it to you, but you have to accept that she has no control of it and that it shouldn’t be treated as though it’s disgusting or degrading. The general male population on Earth regard it with distaste and consider it taboo because they can’t handle it, and it makes most females very self-conscious and ashamed of it as a result. It’s an astounding feat of nature that female human bodies are capable of such a remarkable thing, and it should be respected that they endure it while going about their daily lives. It throws off their emotions and forces their body to endure symptoms that are absolutely hellish.”

Rodimus already looked interested. At Ratchet’s expectant silence, he nodded. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

Ratchet explained, and Rodimus’ expression shifted from interest to horror to confusion to wonder all throughout.

“That’s...gross,” the younger mech said finally, optics alight with awe. “Gross and a little bit cool.”

Ratchet let out a vent of relief.

“Okay, I lied, that’s actually pretty awesome.” Rodimus whistled. “Human women are badasses!”

“That they are.” Ratchet gave him a hard look. “Now, you know that you shouldn’t bring this up unless she decides to tell you about it, right? She didn’t even tell any of you that she was taking the day, so she’s obviously ashamed of it. Just...let her know you’re there for her, and give her anything she needs.”

Rodimus blinked. “‘Anything’, entailing..?”

“Physical affection, verbal reassurance, chocolate. _Anything_.” Ratchet gave him a look. “Making the effort to keep her happy will make more of an impact than you would think.”

“You mentioned it was _pre_ -menstrual, though, right?” he asked. “Does that mean she isn’t actually on her cycle?”

“Her hormones are starting to get unbalanced because her body’s preparing for it,” Ratchet affirmed. “Sometimes it can be just as bad as actually being on her cycle.”

“Yikes. Who would’ve thought that humans were so...fragile?”

“They’re fragile in some ways, resilient in others. Just like we are.” Ratchet ex-vented and shoved at the younger mech’s shoulder. “Now get out and let me rest.”

“Sure thing, doc.” The red and gold mech stood and headed towards the door, gingerly pressing the fractured button and stepping out. He paused in the doorway, however, and cast the medic a grateful look over his shoulder. “Thanks, Ratchet. I...I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

The sentiment surprised Ratchet, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t a pleasant surprise. “It’s what I’m here for, Rodimus.”

The younger mech smiled and departed, the door sliding shut behind him and once again leaving the medic’s habsuite in silence. Ratchet sighed softly, smiling faintly, and reclined on his berth before slipping into recharge.

* * *

“Babe? Hey, uh...I came to see if you’re okay. Can you open the door?”

A long moment of silence drew itself out, no response making itself known. The door remained locked.

Rodimus fidgeted on his pedes, his spoiler twitching nervously as he tried to convince himself that using the command override to your habsuite door wouldn’t be a good thing to do - especially if you wanted privacy and solitude. But you weren’t talking to him and he couldn’t do anything but dwell on the knot of dread growing in the pit of his primary tank.

“Babe, please,” he said, rested his forehelm on the door and worried the inside of his lip. “Talk to me. You don’t even have to let me in, just...please tell me what’s wrong. I don’t want you to close yourself off from everyone, but...don’t shut _me_ out. Please.”

Another silence, and no response. Rodimus was torn, conflicted. He didn’t know what to do.

“Please, baby,” he tried again, softly. “Let me in.”

A few kliks passed, heavy and empty, and Rodimus reached for the touchpad mounted on the side of the habsuite door. It opened before he even touched it.

His shadow fell onto the floor before him, long and dark and melting into the rest of the gloom within your habsuite. It was painfully silent, and evidently empty save for the tiny lamp mounted next to your bed. He spotted a mass curled up beneath the blankets about your size, and he saw the remote to the door Brainstorm had constructed for you fly out of the edge.

He stepped inside and locked the door behind him.

“Baby?” he called softly, trying to walk as quietly as he could towards your corner of the room. The crew had pitched together to construct the furnishings and devices you required for your habsuite when you’d first joined them on their quest, doing fairly well to keep them proportional for their lone human crewmate. Your bed was a tad big, but you’d liked it better than it would’ve been normally - it left more room for cuddling whenever Rodimus would use his holoform, you’d said.

Now you were curled up in the center in the smallest ball he’d ever seen, completely hidden beneath the mass of sheets and blankets and quilts you’d accumulated from planets the _Lost Light_ had visited thus far.

Rodimus hesitated, debating on what he should do. Then, he stooped down and settled on his side next to your bed.

“I would ask if you’re okay, but you’re obviously not,” he said, prying for a response. He got none. He tried again. “Magnus was worried, since you didn’t send in a notification for a leave day.”

Nothing.

Rodimus bit his lip. “Are you sick? I could get something from the Medibay if you need medicine.”

“I’m not sick.”

Rodimus perked up at your voice, then frowned when he heard the hoarseness in it.

“Okay…” he said. “Do you want something from the mess hall?”

“No.”

Damn. You sounded terrible.

“Did someone make fun of you?” he asked, his neutral tone lessening as concern began to creep in. “I know we tease a lot, but if someone took it too far…”

“No one hurt my feelings.”

Rodimus ex-vented silently. “Then what can I do to make you feel better?”

Silence.

“I’ll do anything you need, babydoll,” he murmured, hesitating before lowering his servo over your form and rubbing the length of what must’ve been your back with the flat of his thumb. “Just tell me.”

A long pause. Then, softly, “Can you hold me?”

He blinked, then settled on his spinal strut before offlining his optics and activating his holoform. It took him a moment to orient himself, getting his bearings and adjusting to the new sensory input. Rodimus did away with his shoes and extra upper layers before climbing onto your bed carefully. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and he settled down next to you close enough to touch you but far enough away to still give you space. He placed a tentative hand on where he guessed your shoulder was, and when you shifted closer to him, he settled against the length of your back and wrapped an arm over your form.

“I just…” You hesitated, then sighed. Your hand slipped out from beneath the blankets and you twined your fingers with his. He squeezed your hand gently in response. “I feel like shit, Roddy.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles gently. “I’d make it better if I could.”

“I know,” you murmured. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything today, I just...I couldn’t. I couldn’t even my head wrapped around doing any work, or anything. I didn’t even want to eat.”

Rodimus frowned. “But you ate something, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I knew Ratchet’d be up my ass if I didn’t.”

The mech chuckled softly. “What’ve you done in here all day by your lonesome?”

You sighed. “Well...I picked up my habsuite a bit, then cleaned it up. I didn’t think so much dust would collect, you know, being in space and all. I read up on some reports I’d been putting off, and caught up on a couple of books I’d been meaning to read. But mostly, I’ve just sat and listened to music.” Your fingers twitched. “I didn’t want to do much else.”

Rodimus stewed for a long moment before resting his forehead against your shoulder. “That’s understandable. We all have our off days. Sometimes I just have to lock myself in somewhere and ignore everything that’s going on. For my sanity.”

He heard you puff quietly, the closest he’d gotten to a laugh thus far. He perked up a bit when you shifted and pulled the blankets off of your head, your hair spilling out onto the mattress beneath you as you breathed in deeply. Rodimus smiled to himself and buried his nose in your hair, reveling in the scent of your shampoo.

“I _am_ sorry I didn’t talk to you today,” you murmured despondently. “I just...I didn’t figure you’d want to deal with me being like...like this.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he told you assuringly. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t want to confide in me. I’m here for you, always. Whatever you’re feeling, I’m here for you - no matter what.”

There was a long silence after that, and when you sniffled softly alarm shot through Rodimus’ entire body.

“Why...why do you care about me so much?” you whispered. “No one else ever has. I’m not worth anything. I’m not special. I’ve got so many problems and flaws and I don’t really offer anything to make up for it. I’m not that pretty and I’m annoying and…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, baby,” he interrupted, shocked and almost speechless. “Where did this come from? Why would you think that?”

You sniffed and curled even further into yourself, shrinking away from him minutely. He pressed in tighter around you, lifting his head enough that he could see part of your face. Your eyes were glassy and glittering with unshed tears. “Because it’s true, Rodimus.”

“No, don’t you even-” He let out a shaky breath before stooping down and pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “You’re not worthless, and you’re not a bother. And honestly? Everybody’s got imperfections. I mean, look at _me_ \- almost half the ship wanted me removed from being captain.” He squeezed your hand, sighing sadly. “But I think you’re gorgeous, and you’re definitely not annoying. You’re everything I could’ve asked for, and I don’t understand why you don’t think so.”

You sucked in a breath and turned your face downward, burying it in your pillow. “You say that now, but you’ll end up leaving just like everyone else does. No one ever stays. I always screw it up somehow - they end up leaving me behind because I’m not good enough. I’m not enough for anyone - I’ve _never_ been enough for anyone.”

“But you’re enough for me,” Rodimus whispered.

Silence. You stilled.

Rodimus propped himself up on his free arm, gently pushing you onto your back. You didn’t fight him, but you still avoided his gaze by looking away. Tears trickled silently from the corners of your eyes, and he stooped down to kiss them away. “Someone didn’t say all that to you, did they?” he asked softly. “Because if I find out someone did, I’ll be stringing them up on the end of the ship and towing them for the next five systems…”

“No, no one ever said anything to me,” you murmured despondently. “No one ever had to. I figured it out for myself.”

Rodimus’ face saddened and he squeezed your hand again, rubbing the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “Look…” He stroked the fingers of his free hand through your hair, resting his forehead against yours. “I know it’s hard sometimes. Sometimes I wonder why I’m even out here. But...the fact that I have you here with me, the fact that you care about me and want me to be happy - happy with myself, even…” He sighed softly and looked imploringly into your eyes. “It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for. You’ve done more for me than anyone ever has before, and...if I knew how to repay that you’d be a rich woman.”

You laughed softly, taking him by surprise but encouraging him all the same. “But I try. I try to make you feel as happy as you do for me - I want you to feel like you’re the best person in the world, because...honestly, you’re the best person in mine. And I never, ever want you to forget that, no matter what, even when you’re struggling. I’ll do anything it takes to make sure you feel like you’re worth as much as you are too me. You’re priceless, and beautiful, and...maybe not perfect, but no one is. We’ve all got our little problems - hell, I’ve got plenty - but...you always present your best, so you deserve to have an off day. It’s okay to take a break every once in a while and admit to yourself that you’re not feeling good. And...that’s when you let other people in so they can take care of you. We _all_ care about you, baby - maybe we’re not all up-front about it, but I’m pretty damn sure everyone in the ship’s been on edge today because they noticed you weren’t out and about like you usually are.” He chuckled softly. “Even Ratchet was worried, in a roundabout way. It’s hard to get him to show any concern unless you’re legitimately in danger of offlining, but he wasn’t his normal grouchy-aft self.”

This elicited an actual laugh out of you, and he smiled to himself as the sadness seemed to start to drain out of your body. You rubbed your cheek against his, and he had a sense of satisfaction that he was doing _some_ good.

“So...I’ll say it again,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your nose. “It’s okay to let me...to let _us_ know when you’re not feeling good. We all want you to be happy, and we won’t turn you away if you ask us to help you.” He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in your ear, “And I’ve heard a rumor that Magnus is the best hugger on the _Lost Light_.”

You shoved at his chest playfully with a stifled laugh. He beamed. “I think he’d have a _stroke_ if I asked him for a hug, Roddy.”

“Oh,” he chimed, “I don’t know...he’s got a weak spot a mile wide when it comes to you.”

You rolled your eyes with a snort, wiping the last vestiges of tears from the corners of your eyes. “I sincerely doubt that.”

“He doesn’t quote regulation at you whenever you have a typo in your reports,” he deadpanned with a quirked brow. “Yeah, he likes you.”

You merely shook your head and tried to hide your smile by pressing your face into his neck. “Too bad I’m already taken.”

Rodimus felt his face warm and he pulled you against his chest, smothering himself in your hair. “And I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”


End file.
